0,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Velvet Ink Press
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
When a Viking warband storms a coastal fortress, Lady Yseldra is seized as plunder. But she is no meek prize. Sharp-tongued and unbroken, she challenges her captor at every turn. Hakon, the raider called the Sea Wolf, expects obedience. Instead, he finds himself drawn to the fire in her defiance more compelling than any jewel or gold.
Across frozen seas and into the wild northern lands, their clash turns into a dangerous dance of power and desire. Trust shifts with every choice. Boundaries blur until enemy and protector are no longer clear.
But with each oath broken and line crossed, the world they once knew unravels. The cost of surrender could demand more than either dares to give.
Can a bond born in chains defy gods, blood, and legacy or will rebellion’s fire consume them both?
***
Their tale is one of many in SINS OF THE CENTURIES, where love is forged in blood, fire, and forbidden desire.
They were warriors and rogues, kings and killers men forged in blood, battle, and forbidden fire. From broken empires to storm-lashed highlands, from velvet-draped chambers to shadowed seas, they took what they wanted… until desire turned against them. Bound by duty, driven by want, marked by the sins of their age, each man meets the one woman who sparks a passion fierce enough to challenge history.
SINS OF THE CENTURIES is a dark, decadent journey through the edges of romance where love is war, trust is fragile, and surrender is the most dangerous act of all. From captive brides to defiant ladies, pirate queens to rebel warriors, every heroine meets her match in fire and fury. Together, they carve out stories too bold to fade and too fierce to forgive.
Every era hides a temptation. Every legacy leaves a scar. In a world of blades and betrayals, these lovers risk everything to taste what should never be theirs.
History remembers power. Passion remembers who dared to burn.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
Ähnliche
Plundered by the Northman
A Viking Lust Rebellion
SINS OF THE CENTURIES
Isolde Ravencourt
Copyright © 2025 by Isolde Ravencourt
All rights reserved. This book, including all individual stories and original content, is protected under international copyright law. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, distributed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from the author, except for brief excerpts used in reviews or academic commentary, which must be properly credited.
Fiction Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Creative Tools Notice:
Some aspects of this book including cover artwork, illustrations, or other visual and creative elements were developed with the assistance of licensed generative technologies under appropriate commercial-use terms. These elements are original compositions intended solely for this publication.
Thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoy every page inside.
Table of Contents
Plundered by the Northman
Description
Chapter 1: The Smoke of Conquest
Chapter 2: Silk and Shackles
Chapter 3: Storm over the Sea Wolf
Chapter 4: The Fire Beneath Ice
Chapter 5: A Warrior’s Feast
Chapter 6: The Heat of Surrender
Chapter 7: Shackled Hearts
Chapter 8: Blood and Betrayal
Chapter 9: The Northman’s Oath
Chapter 10: Fever of the Fjords
Chapter 11: Rebellion of the Heart
Epilogue: A Throne of Their Own
Plundered by the Northman
Description
When a Viking warband storms a coastal fortress, Lady Yseldra is seized as plunder. But she is no meek prize. Sharp-tongued and unbroken, she challenges her captor at every turn. Hakon, the raider called the Sea Wolf, expects obedience. Instead, he finds himself drawn to the fire in her defiance more compelling than any jewel or gold.
Across frozen seas and into the wild northern lands, their clash turns into a dangerous dance of power and desire. Trust shifts with every choice. Boundaries blur until enemy and protector are no longer clear.
But with each oath broken and line crossed, the world they once knew unravels. The cost of surrender could demand more than either dares to give.
Can a bond born in chains defy gods, blood, and legacy or will rebellion’s fire consume them both?
***
Their tale is one of many in SINS OF THE CENTURIES, where love is forged in blood, fire, and forbidden desire.
They were warriors and rogues, kings and killers men forged in blood, battle, and forbidden fire. From broken empires to storm-lashed highlands, from velvet-draped chambers to shadowed seas, they took what they wanted… until desire turned against them. Bound by duty, driven by want, marked by the sins of their age, each man meets the one woman who sparks a passion fierce enough to challenge history.
SINS OF THE CENTURIES is a dark, decadent journey through the edges of romance where love is war, trust is fragile, and surrender is the most dangerous act of all. From captive brides to defiant ladies, pirate queens to rebel warriors, every heroine meets her match in fire and fury. Together, they carve out stories too bold to fade and too fierce to forgive.
Every era hides a temptation. Every legacy leaves a scar. In a world of blades and betrayals, these lovers risk everything to taste what should never be theirs.
History remembers power. Passion remembers who dared to burn.
Chapter 1: The Smoke of Conquest
Hakon
The scent of burning timber mixed with the salt of the sea, curling thick and black into the morning sky. Hakon stepped over a broken doorframe, the iron of his axe glinting wet with blood. Behind him, the cries of the dying faded into silence. Only the wind remained constant, whipping his dark braid behind him as he surveyed the once-proud coastal fortress now reduced to splinters and ruin.
His men moved like wolves through the smoldering wreckage, collecting weapons, coins, fabrics, food. Screams still echoed in distant corners, but most had ended in the first wave. This raid had been swift, brutal. Just the way it should be.
Hakon wiped a smear of blood from his brow, narrowing his eyes on the stone tower at the far end of the courtyard. It still stood barely touched. That, he thought, would be where they hid the gold... or something worth more than gold.
He barked a command to two of his best men and headed for it alone, boots crunching over ash and shattered tile. The wooden door creaked open under his push. Inside, it was still and dim, lit only by the fire-glow leaking through the arrow slits. He heard it before he saw it a soft intake of breath. Not fear. Fury.
She emerged from the shadows with her chin high, a rust-red cloak drawn around her shoulders like armor. Hair the color of wild honey spilled loose over her shoulders, and her blue eyes flared as they locked onto his.
"You’re the beast they whisper about," she said, her voice low, sure. "The one they call the Sea Wolf."
Hakon lifted his axe, resting the blade on his shoulder. "And you’re no trembling maid behind a wall."
She didn’t flinch not even when two of his men stepped in behind him. One of them chuckled darkly.
"A noblewoman," the man said. "Shall we tie her or "
"Leave us," Hakon said, his tone flat.
The men hesitated, glancing at each other, then at the woman who stood like a flame refusing to be snuffed.
"I said out."
They obeyed. Hakon waited until the door slammed shut behind them, then turned back to the woman.
"You have a name?" he asked.
"Yseldra of Lirien. Daughter of Lord Therien. You’ve likely heard of him while looting his wine cellar."
"Not a drop of it left," Hakon said. "You speak bold for a woman surrounded by corpses."
She stepped forward, her hand trembling only slightly at her side. He admired her pride it wasn’t hollow. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t cry. That made her rare.
"I will not be your trophy."
Hakon looked her over slowly. Not like a man assessing a prize, but like a storm reading the shape of the land it meant to cross.
"No," he said. "You’ll be something far more interesting."
***
Yseldra’s wrists were bound, but she held her head high as they marched her through the rubble. She refused to trip, refused to stumble. The weight of what she’d lost pressed down on her like stones her father dead, her people scattered, her future erased in a single morning. But she wouldn’t let them see it. Especially not him.
The Viking.
He walked beside her, his stride powerful and unhurried. She caught glimpses of him from the corner of her eye the angular face, the braids of coal-black hair, the crimson splatter drying on his armor. He looked like something out of northern myth. The kind of man mothers warned their daughters about. The kind of man who wasn’t supposed to exist anymore.
She turned her face away, toward the sea.
The ships waited like hungry mouths, rocking with the tide. She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. Slavery. That was what came next. She’d heard the stories. She knew what was sold in the markets of the north.
But why was she still alive?
She caught him watching her again.
"You didn’t need to spare me," she said, voice low.
"No," he agreed.
"Then why?"
Hakon didn’t answer. He tilted his head slightly, as if hearing something she could not. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her in the hands of two other raiders who dragged her roughly toward the nearest longship.
As her boots scraped across the bloodied stones, she swore silently. Not to her gods they had failed her but to herself.
She would not be broken.
***
The sea wind howled as the longships cut through the waves, their sails full and black against the bruised sky. Yseldra sat near the stern, her wrists now unbound, but still watched closely. Around her, the raiders sang in their guttural tongue, passing skins of mead and laughing as if death and fire weren’t still clinging to their boots.
She hated them. She hated the way they breathed.
